“Yes, because she was forty-four years old when Alick was born, which makes some difference, you know,’ laughed Anna.”
There was silence a little while and then Anna said,
“You will have much joy in your son, if the Lord should spare him to you, Drusilla.”
“The Lord will spare him to me. I feel convinced of it,” answered the young mother reverently.
“And every year—nay, every month—your joy will increase; for as his affections and intelligence develop, he will grow more and more interesting and attractive to you.”
“It seems to me that he could scarcely ever be more interesting and attractive than he is now. Look at him, Anna. See how beautiful are his mute, faint efforts to express the love he feels, but does not understand. ‘Touch is the love sense.’ He knows that, at least; and see how his little hands tremble up towards mine and then drop; and see the smile dawning in his eyes, and fluttering around his lips, as if uncertain of itself? Will you tell me, at what time of a child’s existence it is sweeter and lovelier than now in its first budding into life?”
Before Anna could answer the question, the door was opened by mammy, who chirpingly announced:
“Here is Leo, from Cedarwood, ma’am, bringing letters for you.”
And she closed the door, leaving Leo standing before his astonished mistress.
“It is my footman from my old home, dear Anna,” explained Drusilla.